Checkmate
by Maryam25
Summary: "That night, Oliver Queen accepts defeat. Because when he looks at her now, all he sees is Ray Palmer." A little something that follows the last episode 3.07. Written from the perspectives of both Felicity and Oliver; mentions of Digg. Thanks for reading! Disclaimer: I do not own Arrow or any of these characters, I'm simply giving in to the thoughts swimming around in my head.


**Checkmate**

Felicity's got a problem.

Boy, does she ever.

She kissed Ray Palmer.

Wait, no, he kissed her.

But that's not the problem – that she kissed Ray. (That Ray kissed her.)

Well it may be _a_ problem, but it's not the one in question.

_The_ problem is that all she's been doing for the past day is playing said kiss over and over in her head, on repeat. Breaking it down play by play, bit by bit.

The more she does this the more she finds with it faults:

Ray Palmer is not Oliver. Nope, that, he definitely is not.

Oliver's eyes, even with all the masking and the hurt, are soft and warm. When she looks into them she's swept up in an air of comfort, a sense of calm.

Ray Palmer has pretty eyes, but there's something about them that makes her wonder…

She can't quite describe it – hasn't put her finger on it yet.

Sometimes, she thinks he has an agenda – an ulterior motive – but, those thoughts are fleeting and they disappear as quickly as they arise.

Ray has great hands; very strong, very masculine hands.

(And if seeing him shirt less, working his way up the salmon ladder has taught her anything – and Felicity makes it a point to take lesson from each and every situation she faces – it's that he has very nice arms.

Not unlike another set of arms that she eyes shamelessly (she'll admit), as another particular someone also makes his way up a similar apparatus.

Arms that are weathered and toned, delineated and defined.)

But she finds herself missing how Oliver's framed her face – firm, but gentle, warm callouses rubbing cherry hues into her already flushed cheeks.

The pads of his fingers ghost at her elbow, steadying her when she's about to falter, making sure she doesn't fall.

(Which in Felicity's case – because she is a first class klutz – is rather often.)

And when Oliver kisses her – well the only time he's kissed her – she senses something shift, around her and inside her; pieces of her long forgotten coming together.

She can't put her finger on that either.

Ray's kiss isn't anything like the one she shared in the hallway of a hospital with a man who insists on pushing her away to keep her safe.

(Even though she's safest knowing that he is just steps away – mere breaths away.)

The man with whom she is undeniably in love.

Whose kisses come wrapped furtively in weighty declarations that run bone-deep.

How is anything supposed to compare to that?

Ray Palmer is a good kisser, his lips are soft, his breath minty.

And, he has perfect teeth.

Perfectly straight, wonderfully white teeth.

He has to be doing something else in addition to brushing them like three times a day. Felicity would ask (because who doesn't want a great smile?), but she doesn't think they're established enough for her to scare him off – just yet.

Though, she thinks Ray Palmer won't scare so easily.

Because Ray Palmer is intrigued.

And as much as the intrigued business man doesn't let up easily; the scientist whose curiosity is piqued is about as persistent as a dog in search of his very long awaited bone.

His very delicious, gourmet, technical genius of a bone.

And Ray is a scientist in very expensive business attire.

So the kiss at 'Palmer Technologies' is sweet (though it's not at all lost on her that he pulls back – and then leaves altogether).

But it doesn't set butterflies aflutter in the little space beneath her diaphragm, nor does she get that tight coil in her stomach; the one that she feels grow tighter with Oliver's every approach.

**-/-**

Her suspicions were confirmed when john came to see her.

Oliver wasn't happy.

Someone else was playing in his sandbox.

Oliver was jealous?

Well, they're are all adults.

If he had something to say, he needed to say it to her face – he needed to give her that much.

'Yeah, because Oliver is just a master of verbal expression; good thinking Felicity.'

There she goes talking to herself again.

**-/-**

She's the last one to come down the stairs that evening – almost 24 hours later (aka nearly 24 hours _post_-kiss).

It's premeditated – all carefully planned.

She doesn't linger at the office after hours; for fear that she may run into Ray.

It seems unlikely though; all day they've been communicating via emails and administrative assistants. There never was any prior mention about him being out of the office. Felicity wonders if he's avoiding her.

The smiling emoji at the end of his last email doesn't do much to quell her doubts.

She walks to the cafe around the corner and spends much longer than necessary eating only half of what she orders.

Then, keeping track of time, she takes a quick stroll through the park.

Just as she is getting into her car, to finally head to the foundry, she knows that John will have arrived 8 minutes ago and will probably only now be taking off his leather jacket.

_Don't ask. _

As she makes her way down the steps, both men are locked in hand to hand combat.

Oliver has already had his go at the salmon ladder and (thankfully) is fully clothed.

They stop when she's halfway between the last step and her desk.

She turns and waves a small hi at them, accompanied by a somewhat smaller smile.

Diggle flashes her a kind one, sneaking in a few, also very white teeth.

Oh John, ever the nice guy. A gentleman in every sense of the word.

"Felicity," Oliver nods his head in acknowledgment.

Within minutes they're all huddled at the screens, analyzing blueprints and outlining possible route combinations. To an outsider, it would all seem very normal.

Three people – three friends – working for the greater good.

But the three of them know better.

Diggle notices it immediately – Oliver's rigidity and Felicity's unease; the constant pause before she speaks – uncertainty.

She realizes that Oliver is keeping his distance. She can see his reflection in the computer screen. He goes to rest his arm on the back of her chair, stops to think for a minute and then decides against it.

When the pizza comes, he says to no to the dipping sauce.

Oliver never says no to the dipping sauce – 'it's the best part.'

His exact words.

**-/-**

For Oliver, the night is a difficult one.

The only time he is able to take an actual breath is when he's out on patrol.

Because when he looks at her now, all he sees is Ray Palmer.

Ray Palmer pressed up against her – his hands, his body, his lips.

And it hurts.

But he'll get over it; he'll pull through. Oliver's been through worse.

But what's torture and heartbreak when you know there's no hope? He lost all hope for five years, so he took whatever came his way because he just didn't care.

However, when you have a girl like Felicity and you hope you're not too late, only to find that you let her – pushed her to – slip through your fingers, it's enough to make you go mad.

He keeps his distance because it helps with the pain.

(Not really, it's all the same.)

The pain may eventually subside, but the scars will remain.

**-/-**

That night, Oliver Queen accepts defeat.

And without a Queen, what good is the King?

_Checkmate_.

As for the hood, he'll move on – alone. It's the only way.


End file.
